What If?
by chibiness87
Summary: At the age of 10 she had decided she was never going to get married. Because being married meant getting hurt. GSR, M for a reason! No spoilers for S8, but anything else is fair game.


**What if?** by **Chibiness87**

**Spoilers:** If it's been on the show, it's possible.

**Disclaimer:** yeah… still not mine…

**A/N: **For** Butterfliedgsr,** because she is great. Not my usual writing style... but well, this s what happens when you read great fics by **kleewyck37** at GF, and then attempt to write something. No infringement on any of those fantastic stories meant at all.

* * *

She had promised herself she would never be in this position. First hand experience in her childhood of when it all went wrong had stayed with her ever since that fateful day all those years ago. She knew, now, that her childhood wasn't a normal childhood, but there was a voice in the back of her head, always there.

What if? What if? _What if?_

So she had promised herself never to be in the situation where the _what if_ became fact, and the best way to do that was to avoid it in all areas.

And it worked.

For years.

And then she met _him_, and suddenly the '_what if_s' were banished to the back of her mind, replaced by the What if? What if? _What if?_

But then nothing happened.

Until one day _something_ did. She wasn't sure _what_ it was… but she knew it was _something_.

What if?

They had started a relationship. And it had been going so well. So, so well.

Until he said he was suffocating.

Until she said some people just weren't meant to be together.

They had gotten over that. Moved on. Their relationship saved.

And then they had a case where a groom's mother was killed on his wedding day.

And the questions started.

Not about them. No, they had been careful enough not to let anyone know about _them._

Marriage.

What if?

She had promised herself, at the tender age of 10 when she had watched from behind the curtain as daddy hit mommy so hard mommy didn't move, that she was never going to get married.

Because being married meant getting hurt.

And even, 20 plus years on, the voice that had been with her since that day was still there, still whispering the same threats, taunts in her ear.

What if?

What if?

_What if?_

But. This was _Grissom_. Grissom, the one man she could trust. The one person who she had told her past to without it being part of a formal procedure for _something_.

Working the case of the dead groom's mother, she realised she wasn't anti-marriage. Just anti-stupid. And when he hadn't pushed the matter, when he had accepted she didn't want to get married, and not because it was him, but because What if?, they had been fine.

And then _Natalie_ came into their lives.

And she watched, helpless it seemed, as he sunk into himself.

What if?

And then he left her.

Alone.

For a month.

What if?

What if?

_What if?_

He had sent her a cocoon on a stick in his absence. It didn't make up for the lack of warmth in her bed at night. Or had comforted her when the nightmares came.

But it was _something_. He hadn't gone all the way across the country and forgotten about her. So, that was _something_, right?

The first time she saw him when he got back from his trip he had pursued her down the corridor at the crime lab looking like he was about to pin her to the nearest wall and eat her alive.

If she hadn't been smelling like she had just climbed through heaps of garbage (which, incidentally, she had, so did) she would probably have let him.

Everything had been going so well.

She had come home one day to find him sitting on the doorstep with a boxer at his side. Two sets of eyes had looked up at her, one blue, one brown, and she had melted.

Bruno was family.

The letter.

God, the letter. If she hadn't felt it, she wouldn't have believed hearts could melt into a ball of fluffy goo. But they must be able to. Because hers was.

And then the crime scene. It had been just the two of them. The two of them and the crowd, all looking on at the totalled Mustang.

He had taken the camera from her. And had stroked her arm.

It was obvious the other shoe was close to dropping.

Except her shoes seemed to be working like buses.

You wait all day for one, then three come along at once.

Brass had found out. After much ribbing and teasing by their cop friend, he had promised to keep their relationship on the down low. They had promised to each other to step back at work.

No more working together… it was getting to hard not to touch.

Then Heather happened.

She had had to process the scene, listening to Catherine going on and on and _on_ about how _pretty_ Heather was, how_ intriguing_ Heather was, how _rattling_ Heather was to Grissom.

Listening to Catherine bring up Terri Miller. No-one at the lab had seen her in five years. And yet.

And then there was the night alone, wondering where he was.

What if?

She found out at shift that night from Catherine, _Catherine_, he had spent the night at Heather's.

And was her alibi.

Well. Ok then.

What if?

They had just managed to get over that whole thing, when she had been taken.

And left to die. In the desert.

Under the same mustang she had processed not six weeks before.

And then the rain came. It all got a little fuzzy after that.

What if?

She woke up to find him clutching her hand desperately, repeating the same thing over and over.

I love you.

Marry me.

Blinking away tears whilst apologising for betraying her 10 year old self, she nodded.

So here she was, lying naked on a bed in a hotel room, miles from home, on her _honeymoon. _With him thrusting between her thighs. Deep. Making her gasp with each bump against her cervix.

No condom.

And she wasn't on the pill.

What if?


End file.
